


Mr. Fizzles Has Some Fun

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Come Eating, Crack, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the SPN kink meme: </p>
<p>Garth asks Dean to essentially babysit Mr. Fizzles for a while, which is kind of weird... but Dean agrees, because it's just a sock. He can throw it in his duffel for as long as Garth needs him to. No big deal.</p>
<p>Except, it's huge freaking deal, because it turns out Mr. Fizzles is actually a living being with a mind of his own. Dean becomes all too aware of this fact when he wakes up in the middle of a very interesting dream to Mr. Fizzles... engulfing his cock. </p>
<p>He's understandably mortified, but can't get the damn sock puppet to let up. He ends up having a very awkward, so not consensual orgasm. This continues to happen nightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Fizzles Has Some Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink-meme! Posting here to fix some formatting stuff/grammar issues. :)

The first night it happened, Dean thought Cas had decided to crawl under the covers and have some fun with his dick while he was sleeping. He’d been having a pretty great dream too. A bombshell redhead with big tits and a tight little ass was giving him the best blowjob of his entire life (sorry Cas!), but the very real jolts of pleasure that flushed through his system as something tugged hard on his cock had him awake in a flash. He grumbled a bit as he attempted to close his legs. They had _agreed_ not to do this anymore when Sam was around. 

“Cas!” He hissed under his breath and looked nervously over at the other bed where his brother was sleeping soundly. He waited for a mumbled apology or the telltale flutter of wings that would signify the angel’s departure, but all he got in response was an increase in the now almost uncomfortable suction against his unwilling erection.  
He was already riled up from his dream, and as disturbed as he was by this whole situation, he was unable to do much but throw his head back against the pillow and let out a broken sob as he came. He felt whatever had been sucking on his cock slowly ease off, and he forced himself to throw the bedding to the side in an attempt to discern what exactly had caused this disturbing turn of events. 

Nothing. There was nothing there, not even the come that he had just shot out. At least Cas cleaned up after himself, damn horny angel. Dean allowed himself to slowly drift back to sleep, intent on having a talk with Cas about his behavior the next time he saw him. 

+

They finally managed to find the rogue vamp they had been hunting, and after removing its head from its body Dean had completely forgotten about last night’s incident. He was so exhausted after the day’s hunt he barely had the energy to take a shower before he collapsed onto the old motel bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

He woke up just as his orgasm hit him, and this time he was _not_ going to just let it slide. He immediately kicked the blankets off and grabbed at his still-twitching cock. At the rough, unexpected feel of fabric against his hand, he yelped and immediately pulled away. Was that… a sock? Whatever it was, it was _moving_ , undulating up and down against his swollen flesh as though trying to milk every last drop. 

He couldn’t do much but watch in abject terror as it eventually eased off and began to slither slowly off the bed. He was in too much shock to reach out and try to grab what he now recognized as the damn sock puppet Garth had asked him to _hold on to_ just a few weeks previously. 

He continued to stare as it turned its head slowly to him from across the room, its empty button eyes gleaming while that red cotton mouth turned at the corners and into a smile. Dean gulped and prayed he was just having some kind of weird, twisted fever dream. The hunt took a lot out of him. One of the vamps had managed to get the best of him and slam him head-first into a wall before Sam managed to slice its head off. They must be it. He was either dreaming or concussed. There was no way he was just molested in his sleep by a sock puppet. 

+

Cast showed up the next day with news that he had a lead on Metatron. Dean wanted to ask him about the _incident_ , but he wasn’t sure if Cas was behind it or not. He watched the angel closely through breakfast, eventually getting a concerned look from Sam when he didn’t even touch his pancakes. Cas sipped at his coffee and tilted his head at him curiously. His heart dropped. Cas was not the type to play pranks, and he definitely wasn’t the type to hide them. He had no choice but to accept that the last few nights had just been the result of too much action and too little sleep. He didn’t dare think of the alternative. 

When they make it back to the motel room, Dean feels a slight panic flare up in his chest as he realized the side pouch on his duffle bag was open; the same pouch he was storing Mr. Fizzles. Sam grumbled for him to move and eventually just shoved past him when he didn’t get a response. Cas followed and once again gave Dean a curious look. Dean forced himself to smile and shrugged. 

“Dean?” Cas asked after they had settled in and pulled out the research. 

“Huh?” Dean asked and looked up from where he was currently (not) reading some old translation of the Song of Solomon.

“What is this?”

Dean felt his heart begin to thud in his chest as he saw what Cas was holding; the limp form of Mr. Fizzles. 

“It’s… um.” He tried to find some way to respond, but he was having a hard time forming the words. Thankfully Sam jumped to his rescue. 

“It’s that stupid sock thing Garth is always carrying around. For some reason he wanted Dean to hold onto it for him.” Sam mumbled without even looking up from the laptop. 

“…Huh.” Cas squinted his eyes with suspicion as he held it, and for one brief moment Dean prayed he would say that the object was cursed and he had no choice but to destroy it. Of course he wasn’t that lucky. His idiot angel broke into a smile and put it on his hand instead, obviously amused. Dean groaned. 

\+ 

When Dean woke up to find himself being vigorously sucked to orgasm every night for the rest week, he knew he wasn’t lucky enough to have this all be a dream. He found himself waking in the morning with almost no energy at all, but he had no idea how to fix this. 

The entire thing was too embarrassing for him to bring up to Cas, and especially to Sam. He had tried to call Garth several times now, but for some reason the other hunter wasn’t answering his phone. Dean got a sick feeling that, now that Mr. Fizzles was firmly Dean’s problem, he wasn’t going to.   
He had tried everything. After trying to call Garth for days, he tossed Mr. Fizzles into the nearest garbage can as they checked out of the motel to investigate a suspected haunting in Missouri. When they finally made it late that night and unloaded their things, Dean had nearly screamed in horror when he saw the damn puppet folded neatly next to his shirts. He drove to the nearest convenience store and bought a pair of scissors so he could finish that damn thing off once and for all, but when he got back to the motel he found Cas sitting on the bed with the aforementioned menace, smiling at it fondly. Sam was nowhere in sight. 

“Cas, give it here.” Dean barked and held out his hand. The angel glared and shook his head. 

“No.” 

“Cas-please.” Dean was trying to keep his voice calm, but he couldn’t help the panic that was beginning to once again overtake him as he stared at the thing that had practically been raping him for the past week. 

“You intend to hurt him.” Cas held the puppet against his chest protectively and glared hatefully at the scissors in Dean’s hand.  
Dean couldn’t help the rage the boiled up within him at the angel’s words. Why the hell was Cas taking the side of a damn piece of clothing over him? He set the scissors down on the table and immediately lunged at where Cas was sitting on the bed, intent on taking the demonic puppet by force if necessary.

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but Dean had apparently forgotten he really didn’t stand a single chance of overpowering an angel with his bare hands. In seconds he found himself flipped over onto his back and slammed _hard_ against the stiff mattress, the air knocked out of his lungs. He struggled for a moment, but Cas’ hold was firm. When he finally started to calm down he winced a bit, expecting Cas to chew him out for his violent outburst, but all he saw in the angel’s eyes was concern. 

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” Cas stated as he helped the now breathless hunter into a sitting position. Dean didn’t even have the will to respond. He just stared miserably at where Mr. Fizzles was tucked safely next to Cas on the bed.   
“…. I’m concerned, Dean. You ran a red light today and nearly hit a minivan. Now you are having some delusion that a sock is out to get you?” 

The way Cas said it made Dean feel shame curl hot in his gut, but he _knew_ he wasn’t imagining it. He couldn’t be. Still, Cas looked genuinely concerned, and Dean almost caved and told him the whole story. As it was, he still had a shred of dignity left, and he wasn’t about to lose that. 

“Yeah… I guess I’ve just been really stressed lately.” He lied. Cas smiled deviously. 

“Well, I think I can do something about that.” 

+

Cas stayed with him that night after informing him that Sam met a sweet little blonde at the local library and wouldn’t be back until the morning. For the first time in over a week, he actually slept without waking once.

He felt better than he had in a long time, and when he forced himself out of bed and into the shower he was feeling optimistic about the entire situation. When he walked back into the main room, he noticed that Cas was nowhere in sight. Oh well, he was a busy angel and he probably had Metatron-related leads to follow. Dean was actually surprised he had deigned to stay the entire night. 

He sat back on the bed and looked over at the table, smiling when he realized that Cas had left Mr. Fizzle’s sitting unprotected on it. Now was his chance. 

He rifled around for a moment before pulling out the scissors he had bought last night, and immediately went to town on the hell spawned sock. He didn’t stop until he had cut it into ribbons, and then gathered them in his arms and carried them outside. 

He grabbed some lighter fluid from Baby’s trunk and doused the remnants of the cloth with it, then struck a match and watched with glee as the remains of poor Mr. Fizzles went up in flames. Well, that was the end of that nightmare. 

+

“You what?” Garth’s face was pale when Dean told him in graphic detail what he had done to his beloved sock. “You cut him… into pieces?” 

“You heard me, man. Something was _not_ right about that thing, and you know it.” He said accusingly. Garth just shook his head in what seemed to be… fear? Well that was unexpected. 

“You really shouldn’t have done that, Dean.” His voice was barely a whisper then. Dean couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. 

“Uh, why?” 

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” 

+

Dean was still a little uneasy about what Garth had said, but after several weeks of blissfully uninterrupted sleep, he had put the entire incident far from his mind. 

That was, of course, until he awoke to a familiar sensation one night at a dingy hotel near Atlanta. This was different though. There wasn’t the feel of one large cloth mouth enveloping him, but dozens of smaller ones suckling at any piece of twitching flesh they could reach. He really did scream then, high and loud, but Sam was nowhere in sight and Cas didn’t appear either. He tried in vain to pull them off as they continued their painful suction, but it was no use. A few of them attached to his sack and that was it, game over. His orgasm was punched out of him viciously and he watched in horror as they immediately went to work lapping it up into their gaping, cotton maws.


End file.
